Hellicatessen
the demonic butcher
asked me how I liked
it sliced as he hefted
the dripping live squealer
out from the rotisserie
with his carbuncular carving
hooves and I noticed it was
pregnant when I answered
paper-thin, please, paper-thin
Posted by Michael Arnzen | May 1st, 2005
Dept.: Gorelets: Unpleasant Poems | Permalink
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